Remorfe begets reform. His master-luft

Falls first before his refolute rebuke,

And feems dethron'd and vanquifh'd. Peace enfues,

child

But fpurious and short-liv'd, the puny
Of felf-congratulating pride, begot
On fancied Innocence. Again he falls,
And fights again; but finds his best essay
A prefage ominous, portending ftill
Its own dishonor by a worse relapse.
Till Nature, unavailing Nature, foil'd

So oft, and wearied in the vain attempt,
Scoffs at her own performance. Reason now
Takes part
with appetite, and pleads the cause,
Perversely, which of late fhe fo condemn'd;
With fhallow fhifts and old devices, worn
And tatter'd in the fervice of debauch,
Cov'ring his shame from his offended fight.

"Hath God indeed giv'n appetites to man, "And ftor'd the earth fo plenteously with means

"To gratify the hunger of his wifh,

"And doth he reprobate and will he damn
"The use of his own bounty? making first
"So frail a kind, and then enacting laws
"So ftrict, that lefs than perfect must despair?
"Falsehood! which whofo but fufpects of truth,
"Difhonors God, and makes a flave of man.
"Do they themselves, who undertake for hire
"The teacher's office, and difpenfe at large
"Their weekly dole of edifying strains,
"Attend to their own mufic? have they faith
"In what with fuch folemnity of tone

"And gesture they propound to our belief?
"Nay-conduct hath the loudest tongue. The voice
"Is but an instrument on which the priest

" May play what tune he pleases. In the deed,

"The unequivocal authentic deed,

"We find found argument, we read the heart."

Such reas'nings (if that name must needs belong T'excuses in which reafon has no part)

Serve to compofe a fpirit well inclin'd

To live on terms of amity with vice,

And fin without disturbance. Often urg'd

(As often as libidinous discourse

Exhausted, he resorts to folemn themes

Of theological and grave import)

They gain at last his unreferv'd affent.

Till harden'd his heart's temper in the forge

Of luft, and on the anvil of defpair,

He flights the strokes of confcience. Nothing moves,

Or nothing much, his constancy in ill,

Vain tamp'ring has but foster'd his disease,

'Tis defp'rate, and he sleeps the sleep of death.
Haste now, philosopher, and set him free.

Charm the deaf serpent wifely. Make him hear
Of rectitude and fitnefs; moral truth

How lovely, and the moral-fense how fure,
Confulted and obey'd, to guide his steps

Directly, to the FIRST AND ONLY FAIR.
Spare not in fuch a caufe. Spend all the pow'rs

Of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise:
Be most fublimely good, verbosely grand,
And with poetic trappings grace thy profe,
Till it out-mantle all the pride of verfe.--
Ah, tinkling cymbal and high-founding brass,
Smitten in vain! fuch mufic cannot charm
Th' eclipfe that intercepts truth's heav'nly beam,
And chills and darkens a wide-wand'ring foul.
The still small voice is wanted. He muft fpeak,
Whose word leaps forth at once to its effect,
Who calls for things that are not, and they come.

Grace makes the flave a freeman. 'Tis a change
That turns to ridicule the turgid speech
And ftately tone of moralifts, who boast,
As if like him, of fabulous renown,
They had indeed ability to smooth

The fhag of favage nature, and were each
An Orpheus, and omnipotent in fong.

But transformation of apoftate man

From

From fool to wife, from earthly to divine,

Is work for Him that made him. He alone,
And he by means in philofophic eyes
Trivial and worthy of difdain, atchieves
The wonder; humanizing what is brute
In the loft kind, extracting from the lips
Of afps their venom, overpow'ring strength
By weakness, and hostility by love.

Patriots have toil'd, and in their country's caufe Bled nobly, and their deeds, as they deserve, Receive proud recompence. We give in charge Their names to the fweet lyre. Th' historic muse, Proud of the treasure, marches with it down To latest times; and fculpture, in her turn, Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass To guard them, and t' immortalize her truft. But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, To those who, posted at the shrine of truth, Have fall'n in her defence. A patriot's blood,

Well